Second Chance to Make a First Choice
by Mindy35
Summary: Jack/Liz. Jack gets another chance to choose.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Second Chance to make a First Choice

Author: Mindy

Rating: T, sexual concepts

Disclaimer: Tina, NBC et al, own all characters.

Pairing: Jack/Claire, Jack/Liz.

Spoilers: "The One with the Cast of Night Court"

Summary: Jack gets a second chance to choose.

-x-x-x-x-

It's when Liz walks in on him and Claire that he finally gets it. How much he hurt her. He finally sees the expression on her face that he missed the first time around. It's not just disgust, it's not just concern, it's not just annoyance. It's hurt. He's wounded her. And as he glances over at Claire, he finally understands.

That was exactly the point.

This was not about him, this was never about him. For Claire, this was only ever about Liz -- about causing her pain. For her, it was completely intentional. For him, it was unintentional. But he has allowed it to happen nonetheless. For the second time, he has allowed himself to be used as the instrument of her pain.

He knew from his first encounter with her that Claire Harper was Liz Lemon's not-so-secret sore spot, a niggling wound that never quite healed. Claire was -- and is -- every insecurity Lemon has ever had about herself, come gloriously to life. Claire knows it too. She seems to represent to Liz every little thing she feels she is not. She represents her undesirability, her forgettability, and most of all, her ultimate insignificance. And Jack has just helped prove that to her. Not only has he managed to confirm Lemon's worst ideas about men in general, he has, unwittingly and for the second time, confirmed her worst ideas about herself.

He can see it in her eyes. She barely looks at him. But he sees the way those unblinking, black eyes take in every detail of Claire, standing in his living room in only her lace bra and red g-string, her hair mussed and her chest heaving from his kisses. Liz stands frozen in the doorway in her coat and scarf and jeans, her mouth hanging open and her arms hugging to her chest a few dvds and an enormous bag of popcorn. Jack watches her eyes skate down to Claire's hip, to the years-old tattoo there that says: '_Joel'._

The moment only lasts a few seconds, but to Jack, it feels like forever. Because he gets it now, like he didn't a year ago. And he can't believe he could've ever been so deaf, dumb and blind. Especially when it comes to the woman he knows better than anyone in the world. Liz immediately begins apologising and backing out of the room. Claire begins laughing and teasing her about her joining them. And when he looks across at her, the self-satisfied smirk she wears might just be the ugliest thing he's ever seen on a woman. She grasps at his arms as he moves to leave, falling over herself cackling, coaxing him to let her go. Jack shakes her off, hurrying after his friend.

He straightens his half-shed shirt as he strides down the corridor towards her. "Lemon, wait--"

She is already at the elevator. She punches the button, repeatedly, desperately. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she mumbles, eyes cast anywhere but at his face. When she looks up, they only get as far as his bared chest before lowering again.

"What're you apologising for?" he puffs, seeing the genuine distress on her face and wondering how he missed it before.

"I don't know, I don't know…" she shakes her head, her embarrassment making her repetitive. "I didn't know Claire was back, I didn't know she was in New York."

"I didn't either," he assures her. He reaches for her elbow, but seems unable to assuage her agitation: "Believe me, Lemon, I didn't know she was going to show up here, or I would've called you."

"No, it's okay, it's fine." She lets out a breath as the elevator arrives, shoots him an unconvincing smile: "We'll watch the movie another night, right?" In her haste to leave though and in her obvious unease, one of the dvds slides out of her arms and onto the floor. The case pops open and the disk falls out, and before she realizes it, she has stepped on it, cracking it to pieces. "Oh…" She lowers to the floor slowly, looking as though she's crushed a small defenceless creature, instead of a copy of _'Planet of the Apes'. _

"Lemon," he says, squatting beside her: "Lemon, I'm sorry."

She looks like she might cry. Like someone's heart has been broken, and perhaps it was. "Oh no," she breathes: "no, no, no…"

He watches as she collects the pieces, as if by doing so carefully enough they might mend. "I'll buy you another one," he tells her: "Tomorrow. I promise."

She looks at him finally, right in the eye, her own welling with rarely revealed emotion: "No, you don't understand. You can't get these anymore. It's a collector's edition, it's very rare."

"I'm terribly sorry," is all he can think to say, watching her put the broken pieces back into the case.

"No, it's okay." She shakes her head, getting to her feet: "Its nothing, it's my own stupid fault anyway." She collects herself, quickly sticking an arm between the elevator doors to stop them closing.

"Wait, Lemon--" he protests, watching as she boards and stabs the down button a few times: "wait."

She puts her back against the wall, pressing into the corner, her eyes meeting his but only through her lashes. She opens her mouth to say something but just as she does Claire calls his name from the other room, her tone deliberately seductive. Jack's eyes close over. When he opens them, Liz gives him a rueful smile -- possibly intending to absolve him -- then she tosses the bag of popcorn at him.

"Have a great night, Jack," she says as the doors begin to close over.

Jack catches the bag then puts out a hand. "No, Lemon, wait--" he pushes back the door, telling her suddenly, resolutely: "I choose you."

She blinks. "What?"

Claire enters behind him. He hears her heels click on the hard floor, can practically feel her breathing down his neck, eyes boring into his back. He sees Liz's gaze shift over his shoulder, her face hardening.

"She's waiting for you," she all but whispers, then averts her gaze: "Without any underwear, by the way."

"I don't care," he insists, without turning. He refuses to be distracted this time, he refuses to be used. What's more, he's not even interested. Something has clicked -- back to where it always should've been. He leans closer to his friend, attempting to secure her wandering gaze. "I made the wrong choice last time. Give me a second chance to make the right one."

Liz regards him indecisively for a moment. Her eyes can't help but flicker with hidden hope though, it's in her nature. She can't deny it, and he can see it, and he's grateful for it. Because it means she will always – well, mostly -- think the best of the people she cares about. Of him, particularly. Her faith in him rarely wavers.

"What're you saying?" she mutters.

"Just give me five minutes," he implores. "Come back in five minutes."

She bites her lip. "Jack..."

"We'll pretend this never happened, we'll watch a movie."

The doors bump impatiently and he pushes them back, eyes fixed on her face. Behind him, Claire begins stalking closer. Liz retreats against the wall. She doesn't want to see the other woman, and he can understand why. He sees the expression on her face grow anxious again, and while he would like some assurance that she will return, he also knows that, after what she just witnessed, it is a lot to ask of any woman. Even a friend like Lemon. So he steps back, letting the doors close over and the elevator deliver her away.

_TBC..._


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Second Chance to make a First Choice

Author: Mindy

Rating: T sexual concepts

Disclaimer: Tina, NBC et al, own all characters.

Summary: Jack gets a second chance to choose.

-x-

She doesn't return in five minutes.

She comes back after twenty minutes, strolling in like nothing ever happened. Liz stands in the doorway, just like she did before, hugging her dvds. Her eyes survey the room briefly -- the only sign that anything occurred prior -- before landing on him where he sits on the couch, drink in hand and shirt-sleeves rolled up.

She jabs a thumb over her shoulder: "Sorry, I got talking to your doorman."

Jack rises, face relaxing into relief.

"He's Armenian," she adds, rather unnecessarily.

Jack smiles as he steps closer: "May I take your coat?"

"Oh. Sure," she says, first bending to deposit her movies on the coffee table.

Instead of waiting for her take off her coat and hand it to him as she usually does, Jack steps behind her and curls his hands over the collar, slipping it off her. Liz turns to him, messing up her hair as she loops the scarf over her head and hands it to him also.

"May I get you drink?" he asks next, laying her things over the back of a chair.

"Okay," she shrugs.

"Your usual?" he says, moving to the drinks tray.

"Okay," she says again, taking a seat on the sofa.

Jack pours her drink, pours himself another then heads back to the sofa. She looks up at him as he hands her her drink. She has seated herself in one corner of the sofa, leaving the rest for him. Ordinarily, he would take the opposite corner. Instead, Jack sits in the middle, not crowding her, but significantly closer than they'd usually be.

She sits up a little straighter, gives him a wobbly smile. "Oh, hello…"

"Hello," he replies, clinking his glass against hers.

She takes a sip: "So, um…" her gaze drifts about the room: "So, what movie do you wanna watch?"

"Actually, I thought we might talk a little first," he answers.

She blinks at him. "About...?"

"Lemon--"

"I don't want to talk about that, Jack," she cuts him off peremptorily: "If that's what you were going to bring up. I only came back because you said we could pretend it never happened." She gives a little shrug: "And for the popcorn, a little bit."

"I just wanted to tell you," he says, slowly and carefully: "that I figured it out. I understand now. In fact, I can't believe I didn't see it before. I can't believe you didn't just tell me."

She tips her head. "What're you talking about?"

"I'm talking about Claire."

"I thought we were done talking about her," she sighs, jaw clenched.

"We are," he assures her: "We're talking about me now."

Liz humphs into her glass. "What a refreshing change of pace."

"More specifically," he goes on: "we're talking about why Claire chose to fixate on me."

"What, are you looking for a pep-talk?" she asks with a huff: "You're rich, you're handsome, you're charming, blah-blah-blah--"

"I'm yours," he interrupts.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm yours," he says matter-of-factly. "The only reason Claire had any interest in me was that I belong to you."

"You _belong_ to me?" she mutters incredulously: "In what universe is that true?"

"That's how it looked to her." He turns, stretching an arm over the back of the sofa. "Amongst other things, Lemon, you told me that this woman liked to steal other women's men."

She rolls her eyes. "Liked it? She made a part-time career of it."

"But what you failed to tell me," he goes on, watching her closely: "was that she had a particular penchant for _your_ men. Right?' He pauses, lowering his voice: "It wasn't just the clown, was it?"

She shakes her head, answering evasively: "I dunno, Jack, it's a long time ago. I didn't have that many men. And maybe Claire just…couldn't help herself. Being all…how she is."

"It may not have been done vindictively at first," he replies carefully.

"So what're you suggesting then?" Liz asks, not looking like she really wants to hear his answer.

Jack takes in a breath. "I'm _suggesting _that Claire sensed something between us. I'm suggesting that, in the absence of a real boyfriend in your life, she naturally honed in on the one person with whom you are closest. Me."

She raises her brows. "You're the closest thing I have to a boyfriend?"

He nods once. "I'm afraid so, Lemon."

"Well, that's just disturbing." She looks thoughtful a moment then shakes her head: "But how could Claire even know that we are…" she flicks a finger between them: "what we are? I barely even mentioned you."

Jack takes a sip of his drink. "Crafty people can pick up on vibes between people."

Her eyes flick over him warily. "We have vibes?"

"Perhaps we do." He gives a lazy shrug: "Either that or someone tipped her off."

Her eyes cut to one side. "I'll kill her."

"Who?"

"Jenna."

"Why?"

"Take a guess."

Jack lays a hand on her arm. "I'd…take a raincheck on that."

"Because?"

"It may not be Jenna's fault," he admits: "I…spoke about you. In the elevator. When Claire and I--"

She knits her brow at him. "You did? Why? What'd you say?"

"Well," he shrugs rather non-committally: "I…don't remember specifically, of course, it was some time ago, but I do recall mentioning your name."

"Oh."

He shifts on the sofa, not quite meeting her gaze: "The thing is, Lemon, Claire divulged something to me which I think might shed a little more light on this whole…situation."

"Ha, well, I'm not sure," she mumbles, a definite edge to her tone: "I want to hear what Claire Harper has been telling you about me."

"Firstly, Lemon," he replies purposefully: "nothing Claire Harper might say about you could make me think less of you. And secondly, do you recall knowing a boy by the name of Ted?"

"Ted? Yeah…" she nods vaguely, waving her wineglass. "I remember him. He went out with Claire for awhile, back in the day."

Jack looks at her pointedly. "He was her first love, in fact."

"If he was, she never told me," she murmurs dryly: "As far as I knew, she didn't fall in love. She just had sex, and lots of it. _That_ I heard about."

"But you knew both of them," he persists: "You were friends with both of them."

She shrugs. "I guess."

He pauses, eyeing her curiously. "And did Ted ever…?"

"What?"

"Make a move on you?"

"What? No! Are you kidding me?" Her face screws up immediately, then halts: "Oh, wait…he did ask me out once, I think. During one of their break-ups."

His smile widens. "He had a crush on you," he tells her, since she doesn't seem able to put it together herself.

"No!" she scoffs: "No, we were friends, that's all."

"Claire told me," he replies: "Apparently, the whole time they went out, her Ted had the hots for young Miss Elizabeth Lemon."

She is silent a moment before she wags her head again. "Nope. No way."

"Way, Lemon. Way."

She snorts, then shoots him a blatantly suspicious look. "You're making this up. You're just making stuff up to boost my pathetic ego."

"God's honest truth." He holds up a hand: "I swear. And what's more…the clown guy?"

"Joel?"

"Same thing."

"He _left _me," she points out, emphasizing each word: "_for_ Claire."

"But--" Jack muses, pointing his drink at her: "According to her, the clown never stopped talking about you. Never stopped telling her how smart and funny you were."

She laughs drolly, looking at her lap: "O-o-kay. I'm sure you don't need to be told this, Jack, but one thing I _do_ know about men is that smart and funny does not in any way compare to sexy and gorgeous -- even when dangerously unbalanced."

Jack bobs his head a few times, hides a smile. "Well, clearly, Ted disagreed. Joel, too." He pauses, then adds: "And I am a man."

She frowns. "Yeah, so?"

"Well, you're here now," he says softly: "Which means I must disagree as well. Or at the very least, I might think that smart, funny, sexy, gorgeous and slightly though not dangerously unbalanced is one hell of an enticing combination."

She hesitates, then mutters haltingly: "Good thing you left unbalanced in there or I might not know you were talking about me."

"I was talking about you," he assures her, one hand lifting to play with the ends of her hair. "Did you ever stop to consider that maybe Claire Harper acted the way she did towards you out of mere, petty jealousy?"

"I…" She chuckles and ducks her head, attempting to conceal the shudder that runs down her spine. "That sounds pretty unlikely to me, Jack."

"It's not so unlikely from where I sit," he replies, and shoots her a warm smile: "This is what I have been telling you for years, Lemon. You've got it all. You just don't know it."

She opens her mouth, looking partially embarrassed, partially confused. "I don't recall…you ever putting it _that way_."

He shifts a little closer on the couch. "Well, I'm putting it that way now," he answers smoothly.

Liz is silent, dark eyes watching his every move. She swallows, eyes dropping away from his. After a long pause, she murmurs very simply: "You didn't have to ask her to leave, you know."

"I know." Jack nods slowly. "And you didn't have to come back. But you did. And I'm glad you did."

"Well," she replies, trying to keep her tone light: "you'd be the first guy I know to give up sizzling sex with Claire to watch _'Planet of the Apes'_ with me."

"I'm glad to be the first then." He smiles as he shifts closer: "I am afraid, however, we may need to find another way to entertain ourselves this evening."

Liz's face lights up all of a sudden. "Oh no -- I brought extra entertainment. Wanna see?" She vaults out of her seat suddenly, completely disturbing whatever mood had been building. Momentarily, she returns, plopping back down and holding up two titles: "_These_ -- are classics, Jack, classics! You'll love them…Well, you might not, but you should see them anyway. If you want I can point out the parts you're supposed to laugh at..."

Jack is silent now, eyes fixed on her face.

Liz blinks at him, rattling the discs in their cases. "You're…not looking at them, Jack."

"No, Lemon. I'm not." He lifts one hand and slips it into the curve of her waist.

She glances down, the shock visible on her face: "Oka-ay. You're…touching me…and not looking at them..."

Jack nods, draws in a breath. "I am indeed." His eyes drop, honing in on one particular spot on her neck. He leans closer and closer until his mouth hovers over that spot. Then he kisses that spot, soft and slow, letting his tongue graze her flesh just barely.

"And…now," she sighs, voice breathy and wavering: "you're…kissing me…touching…me, and not looking at them." She tips her chin up, blinking up at the ceiling. "This tells me you don't want to watch a movie right now, Jack."

Jack chuckles against her skin. "What else does it tell you?"

"Umm…" She shrugs uncomfortably. "You…don't like my taste in entertainment?"

"Anything else?" he rumbles, pulling back to look at her.

She hesitates when their eyes meet, her mouth opens and closes. "You…like me, maybe?"

"Very perceptive, Lemon." Jack smiles, blue eyes twinkling, openly, fondly. "Personally," he goes on in a low voice: "I much prefer what's happening right now to anything that might happen on screen. But…if it would make you feel more comfortable, by all means, put on one of your films."

Liz gulps and looks unsure.

_TBC..._


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Second Chance to make a First Choice

Author: Mindy

Rating: T sexual concepts

Disclaimer: Tina, NBC et al, own all characters.

Pairing: Jack/Claire, Jack/Liz.

Spoilers: "The One with the Cast of Night Court"

Summary: Jack gets a second chance to choose.

-x-

It's when Claire walks in on him and Liz that they finally achieve absolute closure on the whole Claire issue. Not that they thought they needed any, or were seeking some. But it happens nonetheless, and rather unexpectedly.

They did try to watch her film. After he offered, Liz went over to the entertainment system, inserted one of her discs, then turned to him with a tentative smile. Still seated in the center of the sofa, Jack patted the spot next to him invitingly. He watched her eyes flick back and forth between where she would normally sit in such an instance, and where he wanted her. Where she'd normally never dare to go. Unable to take the suspense of watching her decide, Jack grabbed her hand and with a mumbled: 'Come here,' pulled Liz down next to him.

He didn't miss the small smile on her face as she nestled in beside him, under his arm but not quite touching. Nor did he miss the urgency in her tone when he offered to fetch the popcorn for her and she stopped him – one hand on his thigh and eyes wide as she told him they'd have it later. Jack wordlessly agreed, staying where he was as Liz redirected her eyes to the screen, making some muffled comment at the disclaimer on screen, about corporate pigs covering their asses.

"No offence," she'd added sheepishly. He'd taken no offence and added that he dreaded to think what she'd say on one of those absurdly superfluous commentaries by off-screen talent. "You and me both," she'd replied, lamenting however, that all her Robot and Bear Talk Show sketches, slaved away on for so many nights, would probably never be preserved for prosperity in a dvd release.

"I'm afraid you are correct there," Jack admitted just as the movie started. He tried to watch, he really did -- perhaps still attempting to make amends, to salvage the night he and Lemon had planned. And it was funny in parts. From what he noticed. But neither of them laughed. The tension in the air made it impossible. It had grown even more palpable once they stopped talking. And sitting so close made them hyper-aware of every move, every breath, every gulp of the other, which otherwise would seem insignificant, but now, became the only thing they could concentrate on.

When Jack glanced across at Lemon, she was slumped low against the couch, one arm slung across her stomach, the other propped on it so she could bite her thumb. She was watching the TV screen through her lashes, her chin tipped downwards. He'd sighed, looking away and asking her:

"What're we watching, Lemon?"

"You know," she'd mumbled.

"I don't," he'd replied: "that's why I asked."

"It's a thing. With people. Who do stuff."

"So much clearer."

He'd waited another minute or so, watching the time tick by on the dvd's timer, before releasing another breath and asking her:

"So what would happen if I kissed you right now?"

Lemon did not budge -- though he could feel in every pore of his body the shock emanating from every pore of hers.

"I…I don't know," she stammered eventually, shoulders inching up round her ears.

Jack turned to look at her again. "Want to find out?"

He certainly did.

Which is how he ended up with Lemon half-naked underneath him. And Claire gaping at the two of them in horror and shock. It's certainly not how he'd meant or hoped it to go. In all his imaginings of kissing his best friend for the first time, there were never any interruptions by former, crazed lovers. And understandably so. Even in his fantasies, he didn't relish the idea of being distracted from such a pleasurable, climactic moment.

Because, when it finally happened, kissing Liz was so sweet. Not in the sense of it being innocent or trite. But in the sense that he'd waited so long to know it. In the sense that the moment, when it finally came, was slow and real and full. Sweet in the sense that with her, he knew who he was kissing. He knew that when she put her hand on the side of his neck and pressed her lips back against his that she was kissing him. The actual him. The real him. The him that she knew, and nobody else. And for that reason, Jack kissed Liz like he'd never kissed another woman.

The first time he kissed her, Liz was lying down on the couch, her hair in a curly pile about her head, the fingers of his hand sifting through it. Jack curled a hand under her knees and lifted her legs over his lap, never taking his eyes off her face. He ran a hand up her thigh, making her lick her lips. Then he leaned down to capture them with his own. The first kiss was tender, infinitely meaningful, but brief. He pulled back to get her reaction and watched her try to suppress a pleased smile. She bit her lower lip shyly, but the smile still managed to reach her eyes. He smiled back, then moved in to kiss her again.

He gave her a couple of short kisses before settling into a longer, deeper kiss, her hands moving up and down his arms as his hand rested stationary on her waist, one finger getting a taste of the warm skin between her shirt and her jeans. The kiss deepened further, Liz's eyes opened as he moaned against her mouth. But closed again when his tongue entered her mouth.

He couldn't help himself. His fingers began undoing the buttons of her shirt, starting at the bottom. He only got two undone, before getting the overwhelming urge to slip a hand inside to circle her skin. It was not long afterwards that things began to heat up, his mouth headed south and Liz's shirt was all the way undone. Wrapping both hands round her waist, he drew her body off the sofa, towards his mouth. She arched into him, her ass and shoulders still on the cushions, but the rest of her straining towards him with a hunger he never thought possible.

And it's at this moment, when his eyes are roving over her exposed torso, his mouth on her stomach and her eyes shut tight in pleasure that a horrified shriek alerts them to Claire's presence. They both freeze, although Lemon's eyes snap open. Enough to watch Claire as she stomps about the room, apparently having returned to retrieve some lost item of clothing. When she cannot find something to have pretended to have forgotten though, she hurls a few expletives at them -- topped off by a few 'sluts!' -- before she storms out again, hair flying and eyes flashing.

As the door slams shut on her wrath, Jack turns to Liz, propped up on her elbows, shirt undone and lips an indecent red. He watches her face, watches to see which way her expression will go. He is unsure whether something like this could catapult her into a full-scale meltdown, or worse, might cause her to withdraw from him and abruptly flee.

Tentatively, he asks: "Do you think she was talking to you or me?"

Liz flops back against the cushions, gloriously unconcerned: "I'm not the one making out with two ladies in one night. If anyone's a slut here, it's you, Jackie."

"I didn't sleep with Claire," he tells her, shifting up to catch her gaze.

Liz looks him in the eye, silent a moment. "I didn't say you did."

"I know. I just…thought it might be a good time to clear that up," he says, then adds: "If it needed clearing up."

"Hey, I hate to break it to you," she mutters: "but you're not sleeping with me either."

"Tonight?" he asks, wide-eyed: "Or ever?"

"I have a very strict 'not-before-the-twelfth-date-rule'," she tells him then reaches up to pat his chest: "Though for you, I might be convinced to lower that to…ten, maybe..?"

"I'm appalled, Lemon," Jack murmurs, adjusting himself over her. "I think you are grossly underestimating my powers of persuasion. I'm fairly certain I could convince you to at least halve that number."

"Hm…" Her mouth curls up shyly in one corner as one hand slips round his neck. "Eh, kiss me again and we'll see."

Jack grins as he descends. "God, you're sexy when you make jokes."

Liz rolls her eyes, murmurs knowingly: "Yeah, that's what aaaall the boys say."

_END._


End file.
